Of meanings and words
by extremely romantic
Summary: A few days after Lavinia's funeral, Mary and Matthew meet, alone, for the first time.


A wet wind was blowing from the West that morning of Spring, and despite the season and the enjoyable temperature, the sky was full of heavy dark grey clouds, promising rain.

Finally Sir Richard Carlyle had gone, with the first train after breakfast. With an excuse Mary hadn't went down, but had had a tray in her room instead, grateful that the bedroom's windows faced the main entrance. Only when the car was leaving and she was sure she had really avoided him, she had rang for Anna to ask for her riding suit.

"Maybe you should go for a walk, milady. I'm afraid it's going to rain."

Mary hadn't noticed it. She looked out from the wide French window and up to grey sky: Anna was right after all. And even if she had already tasted the feeling of freedom and the sensation of the fresh air on her face, she decided to follow the maid's wise advise.

"You're right Anna. -I'll be needing a walking suit."

"And an umbrella I daresay."

"I think so. The black one, I think, with my grey suit."

"Very well, milady." And while Anna fetched the clothes, she remained in silent, staring at the empty yard below her. She felt relieved not to have met Sir Richard and even more relieved at the thought that many days will pass before his next visit. But, she couldn't feel completely happy. Maybe it was Sybil's departure, maybe the stream of sadness left by Lavinia's sudden death.

"Is there something wrong, m'lady?"

Anna's question shook her and she turned towards the maid who was carrying her grey and black walking suit.

"You know me Anna" She told her with a sigh, "I hate wearing mourning."

Half an hour after Mary had already left the meadows behind the Abby and took a small path that lead to the wood, sure that no one would have taken that way, especially on a day promising rain. She stopped for a moment, and closed her eyes, felling the wind from the West blowing against her face. It had grown stronger and her hat would have surely fallen more than once if Anna hadn't been so wise and had secured it with some extra pins.

When she reopened her eyes, she saw someone coming towards her and because of the narrow pathway there weren't any chances to avoid him. The man was wearing a black suit and didn't look completely steady on his feet.

"A nice walk in the county?' She asked with a polite smile. She felt terribly embarrassed, even if she would have never admitted it. But that was the first time she saw him after Lavinia's funeral and besides, that meeting hadn't been planned.

"It's a good exercise for me. Apparently it strengthens my back…" Matthew answered without any compliments.

"Of course." She confirmed, nodding, again with a sheepish smile.

"…And it gives me the chance to think." He added, dry.

"You seem to walk much better."

He sighed deeply. "I'm trying to manage without my stick." He looked straight into her eyes, his voice dry again, and she understood his reference to the conversation they had had a few days before. She lowered her eyes.

"I'm sure you will, very soon." Another smile of circumstance and a nod.

"I do hope so." He stared at her again and again she couldn't bear his gaze. Then Matthew also turned his head and looked around the wonderful country landscape around them and towards the Abbey in the distance.

"Would you and your mother come for dinner tonight?" She asked politely. He hasn't come for dinner since the funeral, but Isobel had while he was in London.

"I'm afraid I'm not in the right mood to come and mother is busy at the hospital, they're plenty of cases of this flu."

"I see."

They stood silent for a while and their eyes didn't meet, tough Mary were studying him and his own eyes, that looked sad, grey as the clouds in the sky, still full of pain and fault. And the dark circles below them, she imagined, were the proof of many nights spent sleepless.

"Have you had a nice time in London?" She regretted her words as soon as they went out of her mouth. She felt stupid to ask him about his trip, but that silent was becoming unbearable.

"I just went to see Mr Swire and Sir Coates."

"What does he say?"

"He's confident I'll recover completely in a few months."

"What a marvelous news." She smiled again at him, but Matthew was gazing away, far towards the Abbey.

"And how is Mr Swire?" Mary asked again to keep the conversation going.

"God, Mary… He lost his only daughter, how do you think he is?" His words came out with hunger and frustration. "I'm sorry…" He apologized in a calmer tone with a sigh.

"And how about you? How are you?" She asked, almost whispering.

"I can hardly look at my face in the mirror…"

"Oh Matthew…" She started , but she stopped because of a smirk that suddenly appeared on his still pale face. She thought it was due to what she was going to say, once again: that it wasn't his fault, that it was the flu that killed her, not their kiss, not their dance, not their words.

The smirk on his face became a painful expression and he put a hand on the lower part of his back.

"Are you all right?" Mary asked, concerned, placing her hand on his other arm gently, but he moved away from her and grabbed the wooden fence behind him.

"Mary, please… Things have changed, they will never be as they used to be before." When he finally turned and looked at her again, he could see she was deeply concerned.

"Something it hurts." He explained gently. "They say it's normal. Maybe I've walked too much…"

"What can I do?" She asked, not just referring to what he had just said.

"Nothing, actually. You don't have to worry about me."

Easy to say, but just impossible for her to do.

"Maybe if you can sit down a little." She suggested pointing a bench, not too far to reach.

"I'm fine." He replied with a sigh, but Mary could see that his eyes were watery and she wondered to herself if it was just the consequence of the physical pain.

"And you should go back to the Abbey, a rainstorm is coming". Matthew said looking up to the dark sky. A few thick drops were already beginning to fall and Mary opened her umbrella.

"What about you?" She asked. She knew he was further from Crawly House than her from the Abbey.

"I've already told you, Mary, you don't need to worry about me."

And again, she wondered if he was referring just to the rain.

"Why don't you come with me to the Abbey, we're closer to the stables than to the village. We can walk together." She suggested.

She lifted her umbrella and got closer to Matthew to repair him from the rain. They were close again under that umbrella, as they had been the night they had danced and kissed, the night that had changed everything. They stayed for a moment like this, looking in each other's eyes, Than Matthew lowered his.

"No… We… I can't do it…" He paused as if he was unsure about what to say, or just unable to explain with words. "You see, I wouldn't be fast enough. We would be both soaking wet before we arrived. You can go."

"Are you really sure?"

"Mary, for God's sake…" He seemed to lose his patience and turned towards the Abbey in the distance. Then, after a deeper breath, he faced Mary again. "I don't want to be rude, I… Don't want to argue." He raised his brows and looked her straight in her eyes again and his expression and his tone didn't allow a denial.

" The tone he used to have in the army" Mary thought. "Very well." She nodded, but didn't move.

"Good day Mary." He turned towards the wood and began to walk again, again with his unsteady gait.

In a few minutes the rain had grown thicker and the noise of the raindrops on Mary's umbrella had become lauder, but she hadn't noticed it. Lost in her thoughts she kept staring the man who was walking in front of her, his hand still on his back, slightly limping on the muddy pathway.

A sudden gust of wind waved her skirt and moved her umbrella a little to her left. She gripped the handle with both hands and when it was steady again, she noticed her right cheek was wet.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
